


Waiting For You

by Bethalous



Series: Agents of the Universes [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, McCoy is Awesome, Nearly Resolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethalous/pseuds/Bethalous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants to believe Sherlock that Lestrade is alive but there is no evidence. An unfamiliar face may just change his mind and reveal more than one secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For You

**Author's Note:**

> This has been waiting to be written for a couple of weeks but I had Mocks to focus on. They are now over though so this is in celebration.

“You know why you have been called here.”

“Of course.”

“Do you feel remorse for your actions?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have done no harm. I’ve followed your orders.”

“You have been leaving your post.”

“It hurts too much not to.”

“You should be highly punished for this.”

“Nothing you do will be worse than this.”

 

“What are we going to do with him?”

“Leave him.”

“His actions cannot be encouraged.”

“He is right though. He has followed our orders.”

“He should still be punished.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“He is already punishing himself.”

“So what should we do?”

“Help him.”

 

 

“Sherlock? Are you okay?”

John’s voice drew Sherlock from his thoughts but he didn’t turn around to face his friend. Instead he addressed the headstone in front of him.

“I will be when I find him.” He felt John move to stand beside him and didn’t need to look at the doctor’s face to know that he had a slight furrow of unease on his brow.

“Mycroft called me. He said I need to pull you out of this obsession or he’ll have you locked up.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Sometimes in grief-”

“I'm not imagining him, John! This is me! I don’t imagine things!”

“Alright, calm down. There’s just no evidence.”

“Except an empty coffin.”

“We both know why it’s empty.”

“No. We both know its empty but we have different reasons.”

John let out a sigh but didn’t push further. Sherlock’s conviction that Greg Lestrade was still alive had been going on for weeks now but no one else had seen the supposedly still alive detective inspector. John wanted to believe the consulting detective (he didn’t like to think about the times he hadn’t) but he couldn’t help thinking that he had gone too far this time. Of course, he wanted Greg to be alive. The man had been his friend as well but that was part of the reason why he couldn’t believe Sherlock. He wasn’t sure he could take another friend coming back from the dead, especially one who had suffered with him the first time.

They stood in silence next to each other, just staring down at the headstone. Surprisingly, it was Sherlock that broke the silence.

“He can’t be dead.” His voice was quiet and held such defeat that it took a while for John to respond.

“You cared for him.” It was a statement but John needed the nod that Sherlock gave it. He had never been sure about the relationship between Sherlock and Greg. They both seemed to barely tolerate each other but at other times they portrayed an odd tenderness. John hadn’t thought to analyse it too much – they were both complicated and private people that John cared for – but after Sherlock’s near depression then obsession after the funeral, he had had to acknowledge that they might have been a bit more than friends. Even though no one had even assumed that they were that.

“Just ask your question, John. You’re thinking too loudly again.” John gave a snort at his friend’s words and a quick glance at Sherlock showed that his lips had also quirked up into an almost smile.

“How close were you and Greg?” His question wasn’t immediately answered and John prepared himself for a rebuff. He was pleasantly surprised to get a reply.

“He got me clean. I’d never considered it before but just one short talk with him and I was hooked. He gave me work; put up with my relapses and attitude; made sure I didn’t starve. I’d never had someone care so much for me before and I got addicted to the feeling. I kept experimenting to see how far it would go, how long it would last but it never stopped. Until now. That’s why he can’t be dead. I can’t lose that. I can’t lose **him**.”

John tried not to stare at his friend in awe but he doubted that he managed. He’d never heard Sherlock admit to much emotion and sentiment. It made his heart clench to realise just what Sherlock had lost.

“I’ll help you find him,” John promised and Sherlock graced him with a rare soft smile.

“Brilliant! Though personally, I think I’ll be more help.”

At the sound of the unexpected and unfamiliar voice, Sherlock and John turned around to see that they had been joined by a middle-aged man with artistically scruffy brown hair and hazel eyes that were gleaming with mischief. He was dressed in a battered leather jacket over well-worn black jeans, looking like a movie spy in John’s eyes with the upturned collar.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked rudely but it didn’t stop the man’s smile.

“Friend of a friend of a friend,” he said, seeming to enjoy the confusion on John’s face and the unimpressed glare of Sherlock.

“I only have the one friend, and John here obviously doesn’t know you,” Sherlock said stiffly, annoyed at this man for interrupting them.

“What about Lestrade? Isn’t he a friend?” the stranger asked, his smile widening at the looks of shock on their faces.

“How do you know Greg?” John asked breathlessly. It was too much of a coincidence for this man to have just appeared by Greg’s grave as they were talking about the ex-Inspector, claiming to know him.

“Honestly,” the man said, his smile fading slightly, “I’ve barely spoken to the guy. As I said, I know one of his friends. I was just the one chosen to speak to you because I'm a nicer person.”

Sherlock and John shared a look of suspicion but when they turned back to the man his smile was once again in full bloom.

“Look, I get that you have no reason to listen to me, and Lestrade doesn’t even know that I'm here, but I’m under orders from our bosses.”

“`Our bosses’? Yours and Lestrade’s?” Sherlock asked, confusion evident in his voice. “Lestrade never just worked for New Scotland Yard, did he?”

The man smiled as he answered, “No. He has a much cooler job.”

“Doing what?” John jumped into the conversation.

“So you’re believing he’s alive now?” the man asked John instead of answering the question.

“Yes,” John gritted out. “Now tell us what you know!” Rather than obey John though, the brunette just stuck his hands in his pockets and moved to lounge against the headstone behind him. Sherlock was beginning to feel infuriated and was about to snap at the man as well but it seemed he was ready talk because he let the smile fade and assumed a more serious expression.

“What I tell you is never to be shared on pain of death,” he warned so Sherlock and John nodded, eager to learn about Lestrade.

“Lestrade works for an organisation that protects every universe.”

The blunt statement was met with silence, neither Sherlock nor John knowing what to say. They weren’t the type of people to believe in outer-space life (Sherlock barely knew the solar system and that was only because Lestrade liked astronomy and John had laughed at him.) so this news was a real shock. Their speaker seemed to understand because he took a deep breath and began to explain.

“Look, the name’s McCoy. Lestrade and I are Agents of the Universes along with so many others. It’s our job to keep the balance between good and evil in the universe we’re assigned to. I know, it sounds really stupid and comic booky but it’s true. Control, our bosses, give us a range of different assignments; being good guys, bad guys, weak guys, strong guys. Basically, we go where we’re told and do what we’re ordered. And we never get attached. Except Lestrade did.” Here, McCoy looked Sherlock right in the eyes. “He got attached to you.”

Sherlock let out a shuddery breath and attempted to prevent his eyes from watering. “What do you mean? Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” McCoy said quietly. “He loves you. That’s why he keeps coming back.”

“He isn’t supposed to?” John asked. McCoy shook his head but quickly returned his attention to Sherlock.

“My orders were to tell you his true job. That never happens, Sherlock, it’s against the rules. Our job is a secret for a reason. If people knew…” McCoy trailed off this thought but the other two men understood the implications.

“Why am I allowed to know? It can’t just be because Lestrade fell in love.” Sherlock’s voice was small and John rested a hand on his forearm to try and offer comfort.

“You love him too. So an exception has been made,” McCoy said and gave them a soft smile before walking away.

“Wait!” Sherlock cried. “When will I see Lestrade again?”

“I’ll bring him soon,” McCoy promised and gripped his right wrist with his left hand. John noticed that he seemed to be wearing some sort of bracelet before…he was just gone.

“Sherlock?” John asked, confused as to what just happened and where McCoy went but his friend wasn’t paying him any attention. Sherlock was smiling broadly and John couldn’t help but join him.

“He’s coming home,” Sherlock whispered.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “He’s coming home.”


End file.
